The Tragedy of William Macbeth
by rholowie
Summary: A modern adaption of Macbeth. The Witches- Chemistry majors with ESP? Macbeth- a haughty football player? Macduff- a struggling college student with a girlfriend and baby to take care of? Read and find out. Typically, each scene will get its own chapter.
1. Act 1 Scene 1

**The Tragedy of William Macbeth**

"Add more acid," Judith Wëird pointed, as she and her two sisters, Eve and Miriam, circled around the bubbling beaker on the science lab table. For the past half hour, rain had pounded mercilessly against the windows, and it still showed no sign of stopping. However, none of the triplets doubted that the big game was still going on, and that more than half the campus was still sitting there, despite the storm. In truth, people that chose to attend Farnsworth University also chose to enter into a world where football governed every moment of their lives. It was the kind of place where athletes were gods, and reserved Chemistry majors like the Wëird sisters were outcasts.

"Let me see the book," Miriam demanded, sitting down on an empty stool.

"It says it right here, more acid," Judith shoved the textbook in her sister's face, "See?"

"Not that book. I don't feel like doing experiments right now. The weather's right for some fun. Take out _the book_."

"Oh_, the book_," Judith nodded, pulling a rather large book from her backpack. It was titled _Modern Magic_, and it still had the bright orange price tag on it from the local bookshop.

"What are we doing?" Eve asked.

"Perhaps a love spell. I've been eyeing a certain gentleman lately," Miriam smiled. "It couldn't hurt to give him a small nudge in the right direction, now could it?"

"How dull," Judith replied, snatching the book up so that only she could see. "Perhaps we could try something more destructive."

"Why do you always have to destroy things?" Eve frowned. "Let me see."

"No. It's my book. I paid for it."

"But it was my idea to buy it."

"Don't start fighting," Miriam groaned, as if this sort of thing was customary. "There's something important I need to discuss with the two of you."

"Yes, let's behave like proper young ladies, Judith" Eve rolled her eyes, sitting down on a stool. "Well, what is it?" Eve looked over at Miriam. "Are you pregnant? Coming out of the closet?"

"Don't be a jerk….I've been having dreams about a certain boy lately."

"Oh, come on, Miriam, we don't need to hear about your sick fantasies…" Judith frowned, making a disgusted face.

"It's not that. I've been having visions, about William Macbeth, the football player."

"So have I," Eve's eyes widened.

"And me," Judith nodded in agreement.

"How strange," Miriam rubbed her chin.

"Strange? Prophetic dreams are normal for us. We've had them since we were kids," Eve frowned.

"Yes, but we've never had the same one, have we?"

"Not that I know of," Judith shook her head. "There must be something important about this Macbeth. We should take action. It must be a sign. There's got to be something in this book…"

"I wouldn't mind putting a love spell on William Macbeth…" Miriam said dreamily.

"He's a football player. I thought they were our sworn enemies, remember?" Judith asked.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't mind having a muscleman hopelessly in love with me…ready to do whatever I ask…Besides, what else can we do?"

"We'll confront him and tell him what we know…well, some of what we know, of course. Then….There was another boy in my dream, a Michael Banquo. I know, we'll confront them both," Eve jumped up, as if stumbling upon something brilliant.

"Why would we do that?" Judith asked.

"Well, you wanted to create destruction, didn't you? This is the perfect opportunity to shake things up a bit around here."

"I see."

"And what if the visions are wrong?" Miriam looked at them.

"Have they been wrong yet?" Eve decided to finally begin cleaning up the boiling beaker, whose frothy contents had already overflowed across the tabletop.

"Not that I remember, but if all goes as I saw it…people will die," Miriam fidgeted nervously.

"Yes, but think of it. It will only be those who've mocked us in the past. Besides, Fate will have Its way no matter what. We're simply giving the inevitable some extra help," Judith said sternly, scooping "the book" back into her bag. "We'll address Mr. Macbeth as MVP…and as the new team captain when we see him. The first prophesy will come true tonight. The second…only Macbeth can decide that."

"You really think he'll do what we saw him do?" Miriam asked, thinking over the events of her dream.

"Given proper incitement, yes."

"Why are we doing this?" Miriam sighed. "Is there a reason?"

"Kicks?" Eve guessed, trying to keep the bubbling solution from leaking onto the floor. However, she was doing a rather poor job.

"Because we can," Judith cut in. "The gifts we have shouldn't be wasted. We have the right to enjoy them. The athletes walk around like gods….but we're the ones with real power. And besides, Fate will make it all happen one way or another, so we might as well amuse ourselves with it….Now…let's take our leave. I have an exam in the morning, so we have to do this quickly."

"When will we three meet again?" Eve asked.

"After the big game, when the commotion's died down. To meet with Macbeth."

"Where?"

"Upon the quad."

"I feel something strange in the air," Miriam looked around, twirling her hair.

"And fair will be foul, and foul will be fair," Judith smirked. "See you later, girls." And with that, she left the classroom, her shoes clanking loudly down the empty corridor.

"Quite the poet," Miriam rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "Where's she get this stuff from? But still…she did have a point. I guess I could get used to being a goddess."

"Don't let it go to your head," Eve scolded.

"Why haven't we ever done something like this before?"

"I don't know. We've never had the same exact dream before. What's with the sudden change of heart? You didn't sound too thrilled about if before."

"I don't know. It sounds fun now. Oh well. Just remember to meet on the quad after the game," Miriam waved, turning to leave. "To meet with Macbeth."

"You always were ditzy…" Eve mumbled.

"What?"

"I said I might be late. I'm meeting Gray tonight," Eve did an about-face.

"Gray?"

"Gray Malkin. He sits behind us in class."

"I see. Well, good luck. I'd say something witty, but Judith's obviously the poet. See you later."


	2. Act 1 Scene 2

**The Tragedy of William Macbeth**

"Touchdown! And the Farnsworth Warriors win the game!" shouted the football announcer, sending the stadium into a wild frenzy of deafening cheers. Although the rain had subsided several minutes earlier, water and mud still clung to the exhausted athletes, like mock battle scars after a brutal massacre. However, despite the grueling war that had just ended, nearly every player was on his feet, yelling and jumping as the field transformed into a frothing sea of yellow and violet, the school colors.

Staring at the ball in his hands, a lone figure stood in the end zone. According to his jersey, he was number thirty-four, and according to the bright purple letters on it, his name was Macbeth. Pulling off his helmet to reveal a mess of shaggy brown hair, he grinned and ran over to join his team. He'd done it. He'd won it for them.

Meanwhile, number eleven, Duncan Scott jogged over to the sidelines, where only two players remained sitting. Scott was the captain of the football team, and if athletes were gods, Duncan was Zeus. After two years of leading the Warriors to victory, he had become the most revered, most popular, most feared, and most powerful student at the school. Quite simply, if Duncan Scott knew your name, most Farnsworth students would agree that you could die happily.

"Hey, great game, captain," smiled one of the sitting players, revealing that his mouth was still bleeding. After a nasty tackle, he had twisted his ankle and probably lost a few teeth, but still, he insisted on watching the rest of the game and outright resisted being brought to a hospital.

"How're you holding up?" Duncan asked. "Keep that ice on your ankle."

"I'm fine. I took one for the team."

"You played great tonight."

"Nah. Macbeth's the hero. He saved the game for us," the wounded player smiled again.

"Don't sell yourself short. Everybody plays a role in winning," Duncan patted him lightly on the shoulder, clearing his throat before beginning his signature pep-talk. "The team is like a piece of music. Everything's in harmony, and…"

"Listen, captain," the player cut him off. Frankly, he'd already heard the speech one too many times. "Don't tell anybody I told you, but there's a sour note in your 'piece of music.'"

"What do you mean?"

"You know when Cawdor kept dropping the ball in the third quarter?"

"Yeah," Duncan nodded. Coach and I decided to bench him for it."

"Well…I overheard him talking to some girl afterward. Apparently, she bribed him to throw the game," the wounded player whispered, stealing a glance at number fifteen, Ryan Cawdor, who was sitting on the other end of the field.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Just, don't tell anybody I told you."

"I'll talk to him," Duncan sighed softly, as three more of his teammates approached from behind. They were Malcolm Scott, Donald Scott, and Bruce Lennox. Fraternal twins, Malcolm and Donald were cousins to Duncan, on their father's side. On the other hand, Lennox had known the Scotts since childhood, and though he was not technically part of the family, he spent more time with them than with his own relatives. Thus, they had started calling him "Cousin Bruce" somewhere along the line, and it stuck.

"What's going on?" Malcolm asked, placing an arm around his cousin's shoulder. When standing side by side, he and Duncan bore an almost eerie family resemblance, each having been born with the same greasy blond hair and well defined cleft chin.

"I need to talk to you all. Come here," Duncan said, beckoning with his hand. Leading the three others off to the side, he motioned for them to huddle. "..Somebody told me that Cawdor tried to throw the game tonight."

"What do you mean?" Lennox asked, casting a suspicious glance over his shoulder. "He's one of our best players."

"I know that…He knew he was going to be MVP this year too," Duncan nodded.

"Just…Wait a minute. Do you have proof?" Donald asked. "You can't jump to conclusions."

"I know that. I'll go talk to him. You guys mind backing me up? I..don't want a big confrontation."

"What kind of football player doesn't like confrontation?" Lennox raised a perplexed eyebrow.

"Sports and real life are two different things," Duncan sighed. "Can you please just come?"

"Sure," Malcolm shrugged. "Why not?"

"I guess so," Lennox nodded, compelling Donald to do the same.

"Thank you," Duncan smiled weakly before turning and starting for the bench on which Cawdor sat. "Cawdor, we need to talk."

"What do _you_ want?" the young man looked up at him, as if expecting what was inevitably coming.

"I heard that you accepted a bribe and tried to throw the game tonight. Now, I want to get both sides of the story before I…"

"Spare me the big song and dance, Duncan…Yeah; I dropped the ball on purpose."

"…But why, man? You were going to be MVP this year."

"Because…I'm so sick of the screwed up politics on this team," Cawdor stood up, revealing that he was threateningly larger than Duncan in both bulk and height. "You never should've been captain in the first place. Hell, I work my ass off out there every game, while you don't do a thing. Then, you give me some cheap title to keep me from speaking up. Keep your MVP. I found a new captain."

"And who might that be?"

"You know, Sweno? Leads the other team?"

"Sure."

"He sent his girlfriend to me with a couple of hundreds and an offer. And since I'm transferring to his school next year, I figured it wouldn't hurt to screw you, make some money, and butter up the new boss a bit in one big stroke," Cawdor smirked, stepping forward aggressively. However, Malcolm and Lennox raised their hands as a warning for him to back off.

"Well, good for you, because you're no longer a part of this team," Duncan said coldly. "And be careful on your way home. I wouldn't put it past some of our classmates to kill you if they hear about this."

"Is that some sort of vague threat?" Cawdor chuckled cruelly, spitting at Duncan's feet before turning and storming off the field. "You never could defend yourself, Duncan! One day, one of your cronies'll turn on you, and then we'll see what happens!" And with that, he disappeared into the crowd.

"Well…" Malcolm stammered. "That was…"

"Don't let it bother you," Lennox interrupted him. "…So…who's our new MVP, Captain?"

"Macbeth," Duncan nodded with certainty. "He deserves it."

"Sounds good to me," Malcolm shrugged. "Should we go tell him?"

"Might as well," Duncan sighed. "Ross, Angus, come over here for a minute!"

"Yeah, Captain?" the two players jogged over, speaking and running in almost unison. "What's up?"

"Have you seen Macbeth? I need to talk to him."

"I think he and Banquo ran to the dorms to get something," Angus answered, looking to Ross, who nodded in agreement.

"Would you mind going to find him? He's the new MVP this year."

"What happened to Cawdor?" Angus asked.

"It's a long story….Just, greet Macbeth with his title. Understand?"

"I'll see it done," Ross nodded

"What a night…What Cawdor's lost, Macbeth's won," Duncan mumbled under his breath, putting his helmet back on before jogging back to join his celebrating team.


End file.
